


The Will, Fortified

by Samro90



Category: American Horror Story, Glee
Genre: AU- Non-Ghost AHS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:51:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/316013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samro90/pseuds/Samro90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wherein Quinn needs a saviour, and Tate needs a reason to get better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Quinn was bored. There was no other way to put it. It was strange, because you’d think that spending the summer holidays with your father at his new house in L.A would be interesting, maybe even fun, but as it was it had started off as awkward, with neither party really saying anything at all, and then had quickly descended into nothing short of hellish, as the man began to take every opportunity to belittle her, insult her and torment her about every mistake and every decision she had made.  
It had reached breaking point that afternoon, when he’d finally brought up the subject she could tell he’d been dying to this whole time- Beth. It had come about from nothing, too. She’d just been sitting down drinking a coffee, watching TV when an ad for a day care centre came on. Then one sly, cruel comment came out, then another, and another, until she was in tears, and he was screaming that she was a filthy slut who didn’t deserve to be loved.  
His actual words.  
Quinn had run up to her room in his modern, cold house and grabbed her clothes, stuffing them into her bags and having flashbacks to the night she’d been kicked out of her house back in Ohio. This felt similar, but different as well. For one thing, she had a home still, back with her Mom, but she was in Barbados, and wasn’t due back for a couple of weeks, and here she had no one at all, so she had no idea where she was going to run to. But really, that didn’t matter as much as just getting out of that stupid house mattered to her, and so within ten minutes, she was back outside, marching down the street with her overflowing bags in hand and tears streaming down her face.  
That had been six hours ago, and all of Quinn’s upset had pretty much faded into the background as she wandered the suburbs of Los Angeles, genuinely unsure of what she was going to do with herself, as it was getting dark. She supposed she should have been scared, not bored, but she couldn’t seem to find it in herself. Maybe she was in shock? God, did it matter? Right now, instead of fear, she was feeling bored, and tired, and she felt pain in her left foot where a huge blister was forming. Goddamn it.  
Quinn stomped over to the low wall of one of the nearby houses and sat, taking a deep breath and rubbing her feet.

“Stupid shoes.” She muttered to herself.

Oh god, she was thirsty too.

Abandoning her feet for the moment, Quinn went through her bags looking for a better pair of shoes, eventually settling on the red converses that she usually wore in Glee Club, sighing in relief as she stood, testing them out. Oh, sweet sweet comfort.

Right, now it was up to her to figure out what the hell she was doing for the night. She checked the time on her phone. 7.04pm. It’d take hours- all night really- for anyone she knew in Ohio to be able to pick her up, but it seemed like a really long shot. Like, super long, considering the only person she knew with access to a car they could take whenever they liked was Kurt, and she had a feeling that he wouldn’t appreciate her just calling up and saying ‘Gee, I was just wondering if you could drop your new boyfriend and drive up to L.A to pick me up, ‘cos I’ve had a fight with my dad, and I’m too stubborn to just suck it up and go home.’

“You’re a pretty girl.”

A voice behind her snapped Quinn out of her thoughts, and she spun to face the person who spoke with a racing heart. She hadn’t even heard her approach.  
She found a girl with Down’s Syndrome, her dark hair brushed and meticulously tied in ribbons standing in the yard of the house behind her, just waiting patiently for Quinn to reply.

“Um, thank you. What’s your name?” Quinn’s voice was breathy, probably because she was still trying to come down off the shock of being snuck up on.

“Adelaide Langdon. What is your name?” The girl- Adelaide- was calm.

“Quinn Fabray. Do you live here?” She indicated the house she was standing out the front of, a tall brick house, old- Edwardian, Quinn guessed, and frankly, it was kind of creepy.

Adelaide shook her head. “No. I live there.” She pointed at the house next door, which was smaller, and more run down.

“Oh. That’s nice.” Quinn didn’t really know what else to say.

“I used to live here though.” Adelaide continued, not noticing Quinn’s awkwardness.

“Addie!” A guy’s voice cut the conversation short, and Adelaide turned to look at a tall-ish skinny guy, about Quinn’s age with pale, kind of clammy skin, and messy dark blonde hair come over to them. He gave Quinn a long look that Quinn didn’t really know how to read, and then turned to face Adelaide again.

“Constance is looking for you.” His voice was lower than Quinn would have expected, and it had a gravelly, raspy quality that was totally counteracted by the softness of his tone when he spoke.

Adelaide nodded, and then smiled and waved goodbye to Quinn as she skipped back over to her house. Quinn smiled back and gave a quick goodbye to the girl, who was sweet. She then turned her attention back to the boy, who hadn’t moved, and was staring at Quinn again with another unreadable expression on his face.

“Who are you?” he asked bluntly.

“My name is Quinn. Who are you?” if this guy wasn’t going to be polite to her, she damned well wasn’t going to be polite to him. She crossed her arms in defiance.

“I’m Tate. What was Addie saying to you?” His tone was less soft now, but it wasn’t hostile either, so Quinn decided to let up just a little.

“She was just talking about how she used to live here.” Quinn waved a hand up at the creepy house, and Tate automatically turned to look where she was indicating.

“Oh, yeah. Her and my mom are obsessed with this place.” Tate shrugged. “It was cool, for a while.” He sat down on the wall next to where Quinn had been sitting.

“So, you lived here too, then?” Quinn asked, sitting next to him again, her feet still a little tender from her six hour trek around the neighbourhood.

“Yeah- my mom- Constance-“ He clarified. “Addie, my sister, my brother Beau, and my mom’s old-new boyfriend Larry. But then Constance and that asshole Larry split, and we moved out again, but Constance is all obsessed about living there agan.”

Quinn looked over her shoulder at the house and had to suppress a shudder. “What was it like, living there?”

Tate gave her a sideways glance. “It was alright. Why? You wanna have a look inside there? I know a way in- no one’s living there at the moment.”

Quinn shook her head emphatically. “God no. That place is giving me the creeps just looking at it.”

Tate laughed. “Pussy.”

Quinn gaped at the guy next to her, not sure whether he was joking, or actually meant it.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, come on. You come all this way to look at Murder House, and then don’t even wanna go inside when you’re being offered an exclusive tour?” Tate was still chuckling at little, and he didn’t seem to be cruel about it, so Quinn decided to shove away her offended sensibilities for the moment, although-

“Murder House?” She was confused.

Tate gave her a longer look now, sizing her up, his dark, almost black eyes searching her green ones.

“You didn’t know that this was Murder House when you stopped to spend an hour out the front of it?” He asked.

“I just needed to sit down- I’ve been walking around this stupid town for six hours, carrying all this luggage. But come on- Murder House? What’s that about?” Quinn was morbidly curious, seeing as calling a house ‘Murder House’ obviously didn’t come about because there was once a plague of fluffy bunnies there.

“This house has a fucked up history- from way back in the 20’s. There was a drug addict Doctor and his wife, and pretty much a bunch of murders and suicides and mysterious deaths and stuff happening ever since. Some people think the house is cursed or haunted. I never really saw anything weird happen there- supernatural stuff, I mean. But my brother Beau died in there.” Tate tossed away this information casually, but he certainly wasn’t meeting her eyes again.

“Oh. That’s horrible. How… I mean, do you mind me asking… How did he..?” Quinn felt awkward asking the question, but she didn’t really know how to react to the information the boy had given her.

“He wasn’t murdered, or a suicide, or anything. He was… deformed, I guess. He died in his sleep. Asphyxiation.” Tate’s voice had gone flat.

“Oh. Tate, I’m really sorry.” Quinn suddenly felt a lot closer to the boy sitting next to her, which she guessed came from having a sensitive conversation with a virtual stranger.

“Its ok, it happened years ago.” Tate suddenly smiled a little. “I like hearing you say my name.”

Quinn blushed, but couldn’t help but notice that she was kind of happy that she could get that kind of reaction from the enigmatic individual beside her.

“Oh.. Um.. Well, I like seeing you smile.” Quinn blushed even harder at this, a little shocked at her own confession.

Tate smiled even more. “You’re blushing.”

“Shut up.” Quinn smacked his sweater-clad arm.

“No.” His crooked grin stayed put. “So, why are you wandering around here with all your luggage?”

Quinn sighed. “I guess I kinda stormed out of my dad’s house. He… he said a few unforgivable things, and I’d had enough. So I just left. And now I have nowhere to go.”

“Don’t you have friends or something?” Tate asked. Quinn noticed that his whole manner had changed between now and when she’d first encountered him. Here he seemed gentler, and his eyes were warmer, his whole attention focused on her, where before he was stiff, and distant, and couldn’t sit still.

“No.” Quinn said, answering his question. “I’m from out of state, I’m just visiting here. I don’t know anyone.”

“Oh. That sucks. So, what did your dad say to you, then?” Tate seemed genuinely curious, so Quinn decided to let him in.

“It’s to do with my past.”

“So? I’m listening.”

“It’s a really long story, just warning you.”

Tate smiled and shrugged, and made a show of lying back in the grass, hands behind his head, waiting for a story.

“Well, I had this boyfriend, Finn. I was the head Cheerleader, and he was the star Quarterback.-“ she began, but was interrupted.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” Tate said dryly.

“So not kidding. I was that cliché. But anyway- one night, I was feeling fat, and so I got drunk and slept with Finn’s best friend, Puck.”

“You were feeling fat.” Tate’s voice was disbelieving. Quinn looked up at him, praying she wasn’t going to find any hostility on his face, because for reasons unknown to her, she was drawn to this boy, and needed him to like her, or at least not think badly of her.

“I was a terrible person.” She agreed. Tate didn’t say anything else, so she continued speaking. “And, so, I got pregnant to my boyfriend’s best friend when I was sixteen. And I tried to convince Finn that it was his baby, because Puck- he’s so not the guy you’d want to make a baby with.”

“YOU were pregnant?” Tate was sitting back up now, not even hiding the shock on his face.

Quinn nodded, and smiled bitterly. “And the kicker? I was president of the Celibacy Club.”

Tate was silent for a moment, before bursting into peals of laughter.

“Oh my God. That’s fucking perfect! That is the best fucking thing I’ve ever heard!”

Quinn tried to be angry that he was finding such enjoyment at the most traumatic experience of her life, but the sound of him laughing made that impossible.

“Yeah. It wasn’t so funny at the time. But anyway, can I continue my story now?”

Tate was still laughing, but he indicated for her to continue.

“Ok, so while all this was going on, Finn had been roped into the Glee Club at school, which I then joined because I wanted to make sure that Finn wouldn’t cheat on me with this girl Rachel, who is the Queen of Glee, basically.”

“You didn’t want him to cheat?”

“Tate, you’ve got to stop interrupting.” Quinn said, but smiled at him to let him know she really didn’t mind.

“Sorry.”

“But yeah, so we were in Glee,”- Quinn heard Tate mutter “Figures.” to himself, but chose to ignore it this time- “and the assignment for the week was the usual crap about being in touch with your feelings and stuff like that. And this point, Finn still thought that I was having his baby- so he came over for dinner and sang my parents and me a song about how I was having his goddamned baby!” Quinn didn’t realise how angry about that particular evening she was until she realised she was shouting. There was silence for a moment.

“That Finn guy sounds like a fucking moron.” Tate said matter-of-factly.

“He’s not the sharpest crayon in the box, but he’s a good guy.” Quinn defended.

“So what happened after that?”

“Well, my parents were-ARE, super religious, so you can imagine their reactions- they thought I was an abomination. My dad flew totally off the handle, and disowned me, and gave me three minutes to get my stuff, and get out of the house. I was four months pregnant.”

“No fucking way.” Tate’s voice was soft then, almost disbelieving, and Quinn’s eyes flicked up to meet his, finding a warm sort of admiration for her there. It made her feel way better than she expected.

“He set the timer on the microwave.” Quinn said grimly.

“Motherfucker.”

“Pretty much.”

“So, what did you do?”

‘Well, I lived with Finn and his mom for a few weeks, until Rachel- the girl from Glee- told Finn that the baby was Puck’s, not his. So he broke up with me, and I moved out of his house, and into Puck’s for a few months, and I tried to get Puck to be a good provider- I was trying to groom him into a father, since I’d just lost my own, I guess. Anyway- Puck is not the guy for that. He was a serial cheater, and it just wouldn’t have worked out. So then, I moved in with Mercedes, a friend of mine in Glee. Then we went to Regionals for Glee- It’s a competition” she clarified for Tate “and right after the performance I went into labour, and my mom, who had just left my dad, was there. She went to the hospital with me, and I gave birth to a beautiful little girl, called Beth.”

“Pretty name.” Tate said softly.

“I gave her away for adoption. To Rachel’s biological mother.”

“Jesus.”

Quinn nodded, and cleared her throat.

“Anyway, today, my dad just pulled out every horrible, derogatory, cruel thing he could possibly think to say about me, just because I wasn’t his perfect little girl anymore. I haven’t seen him in over a year. I’ve been here a week, and I think this was just the tipping point.”

Tate nodded, and then, hesitantly, he put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a hug, which Quinn leaned into immediately.

“That is one hell of a past.” Tate said quietly.

“Yeah, you’re telling me.”

“If your dad was here right now, I’d tear his fucking balls off and shove them down his throat so he’d choke to death on them.” Tate growled.

Quinn sat back up a little to get a better look at his face- the transition from warm, comforting Tate to scary Tate had been instantaneous.

“What?”

Tate met her eyes again, and just like that, the scary Tate was gone.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

Quinn nodded and shook off the weird feeling that had come over her, and leant back into the hug he was offering her. They sat there quietly for a little while, and eventually the sun had fully set, leaving them sitting in the dark.

“Do you ever wish you had kept your daughter?” Tate asked her.

Quinn thought about her answer. “Well, I miss her. I really miss her, everyday. And I always wonder what she looks like now, or what she’ll grow up to be like, and I hate that I’m never going to be in her life, but it helps to know that she’s far away somewhere, being loved, and that she’d going to get a good life. So I wish I’d kept her, but I’m glad I didn’t. Does that make sense?”

Quinn felt Tate nod above her head. “Total sense. You know, Quinn, you’re a really good person.”

Quinn was flattered, but something about the significance that Tate gave that statement made her think that maybe she was missing something, and so she didn’t respond.

“Tate! Tate! Mom says to come in for dinner!” Quinn heard Adelaide’s voice coming from the house next door.

“I’ll be right there, Addie!” Tate replied, but he didn’t move.

“Come over for dinner. I’m sure Constance will be cool with it. She’ll love you- you’re all blonde and perfect.”

“I’m not perfect Tate, you should know that by now.” Quinn said, but stood up, wordlessly accepting his dinner invitation, because she was hungry, and she couldn’t sit in the street all night. But also because she wanted to be around Tate some more.

Tate just gave her a crooked smile and followed her lead, standing and brushing loose leaves and blades off his pants, then reaching down to pick up one of Quinn’s bags.

Neither spoke until they had entered the house, and Quinn could hear a woman’s voice, lilting in an old ‘Gone With The Wind’/’Streetcar Named Desire’ Southern accent coming from the kitchen.

“Tate honey? Is that you? You’d better not have walked mud all through my halls- Oh. Hello there.” The speaker was older than Quinn expected, maybe in her late forties, and dressed impeccably, even if she did look a little old fashioned. Her make-up was flawless, and even her hair looked like it had been styled professionally. The only off-putting thing about the woman who was presumably Tate’s mother was the cold, speculating look she gave Quinn as her eyes flicked between her and her son.

“And who are you?” Constance asked, a hand coming to rest above her heart, just like one of the Southern Belles from the movies.

“My name is Quinn Fabray- Hi.” Quinn gave Constance her sweetest smile, and stuck a hand out for her to shake, which the woman did, although not before narrowing her eyes at the younger girl in the room.

“Well, aren’t you just a peach?” Like someone had flicked a switch, Constance was suddenly every inch as sweet as she appeared, any hostility completely gone from her expressions.

“Um, thank you.” Quinn smiled again, but wasn’t sure what to say now. Thankfully, Tate took over for her.

“Constance, Quinn is going to stay for dinner. That’s cool, right?” His tone gave Quinn the impression that he wasn’t giving his mother the chance to say no without coming across as a bad hostess, and so Constance had no choice but to smile and mutter an “Of course.”

They ended up sitting in a formal dining room, dinner consisting of corn bread, and a plethora of other traditional Southern foods, and Quinn was finding the whole situation really awkward. A few minutes passed, during which Adelaide had said a standard prayer for grace, and everyone had begun eating in silence, the only communication happening was the cold and challenging looks between mother and son, and every now and then Tate would catch Quinn’s eye and give her a small smile of comfort.

“So, Quinn. Tell me, how are you and my son acquainted?” Constance asked finally.

“We actually just met this afternoon. I’m going through some troubles at home, and I had to leave home in a hurry. I just stopped on this street to have a rest, and actually Adelaide here found me first. We had a nice chat.” Quinn smiled at Adelaide, who was beaming at Quinn when she mentioned her name.

“And I suppose Tate has decided to take pity on you, then?” Constance’s tone had changed minutely, and Quinn was sure that there was an arrow of condescension aimed at her and Tate somewhere in that sentence.

“We had a nice talk, and he invited me in for dinner when Adelaide called him to the table. But thank you for allowing me to eat with you.” Quinn said to Constance, trying to appease the woman.

“Actually, Constance, since Quinn has nowhere to live, I was thinking she can stay in the spare room, until she figures out what she’s doing.” Tate said, speaking for the first time since they had sat at the table.

“Oh? Is that right? And does Quinn have nowhere else she can go tonight?” Constance, it seemed, was willing to completely ignore Quinn for the moment.

“No, she doesn’t. She’s from out of state. Do you really think I’d invite her to stay in this fucked up household if there were any other options?” Tate said calmly, staring his mother down. But Constance, it seemed, was just as tough as her son.

“I think that it’s improper for a young girl to be away from her home, let alone staying with strangers. And don’t think I don’t realise what you’re up to, boy. You’re hoping that if she’s under this roof then you can sneak into her room to entertain yourself at night? Not while there is still breath in my body.” The longer she spoke, the more steel entered her tone, and by the end of it, Quinn had shrunk down into her chair, mortified. Constance casually lit up a cigarette, and Tate was glaring daggers at his mother.

“You’re one fucked up old bitch, you know that?” He said, and then without another word, he stood up from the table, and grabbed Quinn by the wrist, leading her out of the room in a hurry.

“Tate, what-“ She began to ask, but he quieted her with a look.

They were up the stairs in a flash, and Tate had grabbed a suitcase down from his cupboard, and was stuffing it with his clothes.

“Tate, really, what’s going on?” Quinn asked. “I’m sorry I started a fight with your mom-“

“It wasn’t you, believe me. It’s her. She’s a psycho bitch. Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan. Stick with me, and I’ll look after us.” Tate had finished packing his clothes, which Quinn absently noted consisted in large part of ripped jeans and stripy sweaters and cardigans.

He zipped his bag quickly, and then pulled out a duffel bag as well, and began stuffing it with his pillows from his bed, and the blankets as well. Finally he disappeared into another room, telling Quinn to stay put for a moment.

She took the opportunity to look around his room, which was covered with posters of bands she’d never really listened to, but had heard of, mostly older grunge and rock bands. In his overflowing bookshelf, she found a whole shelf of poetry books, Byron, Keats, Shelley.. Deep, she surmised. Hearing Tate heading back to the room, she spun and sat on the end of his bed.

When he came back into the room, he was carrying an old shoebox, which he threw into his duffel bag without a word. He stood again, and then crossed the room and knelt in front of her.

“Quinn.”

Quinn looked at him, and again saw so much going on behind his dark eyes.

“Yes, Tate?”

Tate took both her hands in his, but held eye contact.

“I think that we need to stick together. I know we just met today, and we’re totally different people, but I think that maybe, we need each other.”

Quinn didn’t say anything, but in a weird way, she totally agreed with him- she hadn’t felt so secure around someone in a long time, and frankly it was refreshing to be around someone who wasn’t judging her about her past, or expecting anything from her. Tate made her feel safe, and that currently meant more to her than she knew how to say.

She nodded, and Tate let out a breath he must have been holding.

“So, Quinn, it’s you and me against the world.”

Quinn let out a shaky laugh. “Yeah, it is.”

Tate smiled at her, and goddamn it, she really did feel her heart skip a beat.

“So, what’s the plan?” She asked, releasing his hands and standing.

Tate again followed her, pulling his bags up onto his shoulders.

“On a scale of one to ten, how much does the house next door creep you out?” He asked, looking at her sideways.

“About an eight. Tate, what’s the plan?” Quinn asked, a sense of foreboding filling her.

“The house is the plan. It’s pretty much furnished, and I promise it’s not that creepy. I’ll be there with you the whole time, and I’ll show you that it’s not scary. It really is just a house.” Tate promised her, taking her hand. Quinn really didn’t mind.

Tate stopped speaking and they stole through the house as silently as possible, although Quinn was sure that Constance and Addie could hear them as they exited through the kitchen, stopping to pick up Quinn’s things from the parlour. Quinn’s heart was pounding in her chest, although she couldn’t tell if it was because she was scared of the house they were about to enter, scared of being caught by Constance or Addie, or because Tate was still holding her hand. Either way, she was hyper aware of him, and noted that they were roughly the same height.  
‘If I wore heels around him, I’d be taller than him.’ She thought, and then was struck by the absurdity of the thought, because a) the thought was completely at odds with the situation (currently Tate was throwing their bags over the fence of the house, although she was pleased to note as an aside that he took more care of her own bags than his own) and because b) she had the feeling that Tate wouldn’t really be impressed by her putting on a pretty dress and some heels to seduce him.  
‘Oh God, seduce him?’ Thank god it was still dark, because Quinn was blushing again.

Tate snapped her away from her thoughts when he turned to her.

“Ok, you ready? I’ve gotta boost you up and over.”

Quinn looked up at the fence. Right. It wasn’t that high, just head height. She tried to ignore how the house was looming up at her from behind the fence, however. She just took a deep breath, and put a foot into the cradle Tate had made out of his hands.

“One… Two.. Three..” Tate counted, and on three he pushed her up. She scrambled over the fence, and then looked on impressed as he pulled himself up and over the fence with ease and grace. He must have been a lot stronger than his scrawny frame let on.

“That was the hardest part.” Quinn could see Tate grinning in the moonlight.

“Good to know.” She replied, but she was distracted, studying the ‘Murder House’.

“Are you sure this is the best plan you’ve got?” she asked him, her trepidation creeping into her voice.

“Do you know of any other unoccupied, furnished and intact, alarm-system-less houses in the neighbourhood?” Tate was being sarcastic, but he had a point. She certainly didn’t have any alternatives.

“Ok. Well, how do we get in then?” She asked, forcing herself to simply toughen up.

“Through the bathroom window.” He said. “The lock is broken on it, so it never closes properly. No one’s ever fixed it.”

“Oh. That was surprisingly simple.” Quinn said, once he’d proved that the window to the downstairs bathroom was indeed unlocked.

“I told you. Now, you go in first and I’ll pass you the bags.” Tate smiled and held his hands out to help her climb in through the window, but Quinn was hesitant.

“I don’t know, Tate. Creepy house aside, it’s still breaking onto private property.” She said, chewing a thumbnail.

“Quinn, no one around here really cares who goes into this house anymore. Really. And besides, we’re minors. Worst we’ll get is a slap on the wrist, and we can just tell the cops that we’re a couple of horny teens who needed a place to hook up.” Tate shrugged, but his words caused her mind to go to a naughty, but very interesting place.

“Ok. But I swear to God Tate, if you run away once I’m in here, or the alarm goes off or something, I’ll make you regret it.”

Tate sighed, and stepped in close to Quinn, taking her face gently in both hands, and the intense eye contact was back.

“Quinn- I promise you, nothing bad will happen to you as long as I’m with you, ok? I promise, I’m going to protect you.” And if Quinn’s mind and heart hadn’t already been racing enough, he leant in and kissed her.

It was brief, and fairly innocent, as kisses go, but to Quinn, it was the most intense kiss she’d ever had. It was certainly the first kiss she’d had that she felt really came with a promise. So when he pulled away, she followed him, and the two of them stood in the yard just kissing for a couple of minutes. When they finally broke apart, neither really knew what to say, but both were grinning like morons.

Tate cleared his throat after a minute, and licked his lips as he turned back to the house.

“Um, so. You go in, and I’ll pass you the bags.”

Quinn chuckled, because she totally got how he was feeling right now- they didn’t really know each other, and even though they’d had a fairly intense couple of conversations that left her feeling closer to him than most people that she’d known for years, she’d still only known him for a couple of hours. So neither of them were saying any of the things that were going through their heads, which were things roughly like “I never want to be apart from you” (Tate) and “I want to be with you forever” (Quinn).

Still, Tate and Quinn held hands a little longer than was necessary to help her climb in through the bathroom window, and within moments all the bags were in the house, and Tate climbed in and closed the window behind him. They grabbed their respective bags, and Tate took his time walking through the house, showing her each room, turning on every light, and generally reassuring her that the house really wasn’t haunted. Quinn, by the third room she’d been shown, had given up the idea that the house was creepy, and was just admiring both the beautiful house and the sound of Tate’s voice in a kind of happy daze. Finally, they got to the bedrooms.

“So this is the main bedroom, but I was thinking that we’d stay in my old room.” Tate said, and when Quinn said nothing, he hurriedly added “But if you wanna sleep in separate rooms, that’s totally cool, and you can have in here.” He seemed genuinely worried that he’d offended her, but Quinn just smiled.

“Tate- its fine. Of course we’ll stay in your room.” She gave him a warm smile, which he returned instantly, and quickly gave her a kiss on her cheek.

“It’s this way.” Tate had the majority of the bags, not letting Quinn carry the heavier of her bags, and he led her down the hall to a large bedroom with walls painted a muted teal colour. In this room, like in the rest of the house, there were one or two pieces of furniture, here, a mirror and a wardrobe.

“So” Quinn said, dropping her bags by the door “Where do you expect us to sleep?”

Tate put his bags down by her and answered “Not the floor. There’s an old double bed in the basement, and there’s a mattress in the third bedroom. I’ll have them set up in a little while. If you want, you can go through the rest of the house and grab some stuff to fill a couple of the rooms, we can just live in like three rooms.”

Quinn nodded, and, feeling brave, she leant over and brushed her mouth quickly over Tate’s, intending to go on her furniture finding mission, but as she walked away, she felt his hand wrap around her wrist and pull her back in for a deeper kiss, which she enthusiastically responded to, feeling shocks run through her body every time his tongue brushed hers.

“You’re so beautiful.” She heard Tate whisper against her mouth when the kisses relaxed a little, and she couldn’t help but compare the way that he said it to the way others had said it to her. Finn had said it because he thought it was what she wanted to hear. Puck had said it because he thought it would help him get what he wanted from her (and it had worked, hadn’t it?) and even Sam, who was sweet and genuinely liked her, had said it to her like it was the only thing he really liked about her. When Tate said it, she couldn’t hear any traces of manipulation, or obedience, or condescension in his voice, he said it like it was a fact, and it made her feel special in a way she hadn’t since Finn and her had started dating, and he’d given her a rose on their first date.

That night, when Tate had set up the rickety old wrought-iron bed, and put the slightly aged mattress on it, and covered them both up in his blankets from his home, and she was wrapped up tightly in his arms, she found herself thinking that she really could be happy again, for the first time in a very long time.


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter 2-

When Quinn woke up, she was alone. She went through a whole minute of panicking and feeling sorry for herself that Tate had left her before she heard a frying pan clatter to the ground in the kitchen downstairs, and Tate swearing.

“Stupid motherfucking fuck!”

Quinn giggled, and decided to have a quick shower before she went downstairs, and took a little more care in picking her clothes for the day (black jeans, and a thin light grey t-shirt that clung rather nicely to her body, if she did say so herself. And she kept the red converses, mostly because the blister on her foot hadn’t quite gone away.) She rushed through her shower, When she got out, she threw on her clothes and applied some make-up, admitting to herself that she was taking more care today because she wanted to look nice for Tate, even though if he were like the other guy’s she’d dated (and were they dating? She didn’t really know) he wouldn’t really notice.

Till, about 20 minutes later, Quinn went downstairs, and was greeted with the sight of Tate, clad in nothing but his pyjama bottoms, working diligently over the stove, trying to flip a pancake over in the frying pan. Quinn hovered quietly in the doorway, trying to watch him for a little longer without being noticed. He grinned as a succeeded in turning the pancake over, and the feeling that Quinn felt at seeing him so delighted with something so simple hit her like a punch in the gut. She was in love with him. She hadn’t even known him a whole day, but she’d told him her darkest secrets and he’d held her. She’d been thrown out of his house by his mother, and he’d gone with her, and she’d spent the night in his arms, and had never felt so refreshed as she did that morning, and now, here she was, watching him make her breakfast, and yeah, so what if she didn’t even know his last name? She was in love with him. The realisation jolted her back into movement, so she stood up from the doorframe and skipped over to him. He looked up, and was about to say something, but she cut him off with a kiss, not even minding that he hadn’t brushed his teeth, and tasted like coffee and pancakes. As he kissed back, his arms came up and wrapped around her waist, and they stood kissing in the kitchen until the smell of burnt pancake snapped Tate out of it.

“Dammit!” He quickly moved to take the burnt pancake out of the pan, but he was inexperienced, and it fell off the spatula and right onto the open flame of the stovetop, where it promptly began smoking and caught on fire.

“Fuck!” Tate yelled, and quickly turned off the stove.

Quinn couldn’t help but laugh. “Oh God, Tate. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to distract you.”

Poor Tate looked so dejected as he pulled himself up to sit on the kitchen bench, right where there was a pile of spilt flour and egg.

“I wanted to surprise you with breakfast.” He said with a sigh.

Quinn smiled shyly. “You did. Look.” She said pointing to a plate with one and a half cooked pancakes on it. She snatched up the half-ish piece of pancake and took a bite out of it. “Breakfast.”

Tate smiled at her. “I just wanted to make sure that you wouldn’t regret… you know..”

“Running away with you?” She teased.

“I guess, yeah.” Tate shrugged, and looked down at his hands where he was playing with the fabric of his pants.

Quinn was shocked to realise that he really was worried that she was regretting throwing her lot in with him. She’d thought he was so confident yesterday, and it was actually a little comforting to realise that she wasn’t the only one who felt insecure in themselves.

“Tate?” She asked, tearing off another piece of pancake.

“Yeah?” He said, looking up at her again, just a little guarded.

“You realise that there’s no way I could regret coming with you, right?” Quinn made sure to keep eye contact with him, to make sure he knew she was telling the truth.

Tate shrugged again. “I dunno. You’re just.. You’re so good. I can’t believe that you’d even want to talk to me, let alone…”

“Be with you?” Quinn hazarded a guess, and Tate nodded, watching her reactions carefully.

“Of course I want to be with you. I think that you’re amazing. And, more than that, I really trust you, Tate. I haven’t even known you that long, but like you said yesterday, we need each other. Do you know how long its been since I met someone I felt as close to as I do to you?” Quinn walked over to him, and stood between his knees, resting her hands behind his neck.

“When I met Brittany and Santana- I was 12.” Quinn said matter-of-factly.

Tate couldn’t help but smile at that.

“And besides, I’m not that good of a person. I’ve done my share of terrible things.” Quinn finished, resting her head on his chest, as the counter he was sitting on gave him a considerable height advantage.

“What could you possible have done that’s so terrible?” Tate asked quietly, hugging her to him tightly.

“Well, I cheated on my boyfriend, remember? And then lied to him about the paternity of my baby. Plus, I was head Cheerleader, which doesn’t exactly come about without breaking some eggs.”   
“I still think you’re a good person. Too good for me.”

Quinn sighed and lifted her head to look at him again. “And what makes you so terrible?”

“So many things, Quinn. Do you know, less than a day, and you’re already the best thing in my life?” Tate’s eyes were sincere, even a little teary.

Quinn smiled, but said nothing, letting him finish.

“I couldn’t bear it if I lost you. Please, promise me you won’t leave me? No matter what?” He sounded so lost, like a broken little boy, and Quinn felt her heart break for him.

“I promise, Tate. I’ll never leave you.”

Tate kissed her then, hard and long, and the kiss grew, harder, and more intense and more passionate, until she couldn’t take it, and he had her up against the wall, her legs wrapped around his hips, and she was fighting with his pyjama bottoms and cursing herself for getting changed already, because her own pyjamas would have been so much easier to get off right now. Tate let her slide down the wall for a moment, and she kicked off her shoes in a rush, and then was back to kissing him, the two of them falling to the kitchen floor. Her jeans, no longer impeded by her shoes, were off within moments, followed closely by her t-shirt, (which she would later notice was now stretched beyond repair) and then her bra, and his own faded blue pyjama bottoms, and then finally her panties. She was already so aroused by him, that when he reached between her legs he found her already wet, and the discovery made him groan.

“Quinn.. I want you so fucking bad.”

“Tate… Please, fuck me…” Quinn could just manage to get out.

“Are you sure?” Tate hadn’t stopped fingering her, or nuzzling her neck, and Quinn thought she might just die if he wasn’t inside her already.

“Yes. Very sure. Please, Tate.. Please..”

Tate needed no more assurance than that, and within seconds he was between her legs, propping his weight on his elbows, and she felt him press against her down there…

“Tate! Just fuck me! HARD!” Quinn screamed, done messing around. She wanted him to just fucking plow her, and right now she was not in the mood to be patient.

“Holy fuck..” Tate whispered, so turned on by this demanding, dark version of Quinn that he’d found writhing, naked and sweating underneath him, and he pushed in, both of them moaning and panting- Quinn was tight, despite having given birth, and the sounds she made when he thrust into her harder and harder should have been fucking illegal.

“Tate.. God.. Harder.. Yeah.. Fuck…” Quinn was moaning, and she’d never felt like this before, even Puck, who was experienced in this sort of thing, hadn’t been like this.

“Fuck Quinn…” Tate groaned again as her hand wove into his hair, and pulled, and the other dug nails into his hip hard enough to pierce skin.

Quinn was screaming now, as Tate let loose on her, slamming his cock in deep, and biting down on her neck as she came, her voice hoarse and echoing off the old kitchen, and feeling her muscles clamp down on him drove him right over the fucking edge, and he came inside her with a low groan, his hips still thrusting desperately against hers as they both rode out the wave of their orgasms.

Tate collapsed against Quinn after a moment, both of them sweating and panting, and in no state to move just yet.

“Tate.. That was amazing..” Quinn panted out eventually, and Tate could only give a “Mmmhmmm..” in response.

They lay there for a while, neither saying anything, until their sweat dried on their skin, and the cold kitchen floor had them shivering.

“Shower?” Tate asked Quinn.

“God yes.” Quinn half laughed, and allowed herself to be helped up by Tate, and they walked to the bathroom, both butt-naked, and yet Quinn couldn’t find it in herself to be insecure about her body. Tate certainly wasn’t shy, and Quinn decided that this guy wasn’t going to judge her for how she looked after sex. Her hair was mussed up beyond belief, her lips her swollen, and parts of her body were red and blotchy, and yeah, maybe her mascara had smudged, but when Tate looked over at her and smiled, Quinn felt like the most beautiful person in the world.

The shower was slow, and they took their time to wash each other, and mess around a little more, and when they finally got out (because the hot water had run out, not by choice) it was almost lunch time, and they were both starving.

They got dressed (Quinn skipping out on the jeans this time, choosing to wear a white cotton dress and a pair of black leather ballet flats, and Tate going for one of his seemingly many ripped-jeans, T-Shirt and cardigan combos) and headed back out the downstairs bathroom window because, as Tate explained “Can’t lock or unlock the door without a key.”   
They caught the bus into the main part of town, and walked into one of the many cheap diners that lined the streets.

“So..” Quinn started, she read the menu.

“Yeah?” Tate wasn’t even looking up from his own menu, but she could tell by the squeeze he gave the hand that he was holding that he was listening.

“This might be a really stupid question, after everything, but… are we, uh…”   
This time Tate did look up. “Dating?”

“Yeah.” Quinn blushed again when Tate laughed.

“Well, yeah, I thought we were. Is that ok with you?” He threw the question out casually, his confidence from yesterday returned to him since she’d given him her promise.

“Well, yeah. I figured, but I just wanted to… make sure.” Quinn smiled at her boyfriend. ‘Oh hey.. Tate is my boyfriend. I like that a whole lot.’ She thought to herself.

Tate laughed, and not for the first time, Quinn found herself admiring the sound.

“So.. And this is a strange thing to say, considering, you know… everything, but can I have your number? Tate asked her.

Quinn blinked in surprise, and then laughed. “Yeah, but can I have yours?”

Both Tate and Quinn were laughing as they programmed their numbers into their phones, and Quinn slid over to tuck herself against Tate’s side, and he slung his arm around her shoulders to hold her closer.

“What do you think you’re going to order?”

 

* * * * * * * * * * * *

A few hours later found the young couple walking around the town, just passing a comfortable afternoon chatting and doing a spot of window shopping. He noticed Quinn looking at a mannequin dressed in a very punk outfit- ripped fishnet tights, heavy black boots, a black miniskirt, black t-shirt that was torn up and safety pinned back together, and a red tartan and black leather studded jacket that was cropped short at the waist. Imagining Quinn in it brought to mind the tough, demanding Quinn that he had encountered during sex that morning.

“I think you’d look hot in that.” He said quietly to her.

Quinn blushed, embarrassed she’d been caught looking at the outfit.

“What? No, I’d look terrible.” She denied weakly, not wanting to admit how much she really liked that whole punk look.

“Are you kidding?” Tate scoffed. “I think you’d look sexy as fuck in it.” He gave a quick look around to make sure no one else was within earshot before he continued speaking. “And just imagine- if you didn’t wear any panties under that skirt, I could have you up against the wall…” Tate let his voice trail off, leaving the image there for both of them to imagine.  
Quinn licked her lips and looked up at the outfit again in desire, but then shook it off.

“I don’t have enough money for it.”

“I have money.” Tate rebuffed.

Quinn really had nothing to say after that, other than ‘I’ll think about it’ because the only other thing she could say to justify not buying the outfit was ‘its not really me’, which would be a lie, to be honest with herself. The innocent, sunny, girly look she had going at the moment wasn’t really her at all, and hadn’t been for a while- ever since she’d given up Beth, she’d felt herself changing on the inside, not necessarily becoming meaner, but certainly a little harder, and a little darker. Her overall personality was still the same- she could cut anyone into tiny little pieces using her words if she so chose, but was still tender and caring towards those that she.. well, cared about, it was just that her tastes and preferences had become a little more extreme. Such as an inclination towards rough sex, or wanting a wardrobe full of tough looking, sexy clothes. Cutting her hair in New York had helped her realise that she could change how she looked on the outside to suit how she felt on the inside, and still be herself, and she’d had huge plans when she’d returned to Lima to just go for it- get everything done to herself that she wanted, but then she’d gone home, and her mom had screamed at her about how she’d ruined her beautiful hair, and what had she done, and Quinn had given up the whole idea. People had certain ideas of how she should be, and at that point it had been easier for her to go along with them than to fight them, because she wasn’t strong enough. Then. Now, she had Tate, and she actually felt good about herself and her life- Tate had found her desire be treated a little roughly during their morning’s activities to be sexy, and if he could accept that, and was encouraging her to buy this outfit, then maybe her being exactly who she wanted to be was ok.

Quinn took a deep breath and nodded. “Ok.”

“Really?” Tate asked, a smile growing on his face.

“Yeah.” Quinn turned to face him. “I think its time I actually did some things for myself, don’t you think?”

Tate’s only response was a wide grin and a fierce but brief kiss, and that was all Quinn needed. She grabbed the clothes in her sizes, and Tate even convinced her to buy a couple of extra things, such as a pair of totally round sunglasses, and some wristbands and stuff. Quinn felt a surge of happiness deep in herself when she emerged from the store with the bags of clothes that represented a huge change in her life in one hand, and Tate’s hand in the other.


End file.
